Of Mistletoe and Ugly Sweaters
by AwesomeEmuGirl
Summary: It's the Enterprise's first holiday season during their five-year mission, and the senior officers have taken to decking out the entire ship. Spock doesn't quite understand the logic in this, but by the time Christmas rolls around, is growing oddly accustomed to it. How...strange. (Mainly K/S, implied McCoy/Uhura.)


_**AN: Hi there! Been a while since my last story, and I spent way too long on this not to share it, so here you go. Star Trek this time, woop! And a holiday story too, because why not. Warning, it's absurdly fluffy. And cheesy. Especially at the end.**_

_**Pairings are mostly Spirk, with a little implied McHura. Hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

It was 2340 hours (11:34 P.M. civilian time) when Spock was roused from his meditation by Captain Kirk entering his quarters. The Captain was wearing what Spock assumed to be bedclothes, as well as a strange pointed red and white hat, and had an unusual amount of enthusiasm given the late hour. "Mr. Spock, you're needed in sickbay!" he announced.

Spock raised an eyebrow. As much as the first officer wished that this was not a common occurrence, lately it had become one. The Captain would run in late at night, wearing strange attire, and say that Spock was needed somewhere, only to solicit Spock's help in decorating for varying Terran holidays. Previously there had been Saturnalia, Hanukkah, and Thanksgiving. Spock theorized that the Captain was now there for Christmas, as it was the next holiday in line. Terrans certainly had several winter holidays. "May I inquire what for?"

"We need an extra pair of hands. You'll see when you get there, come on!" The Captain was practically bouncing with excitement, an especially persistent human emotion until dealt with, so Spock decided that he might as well humor him. He got three point eight steps towards his dresser to change into uniform before he was stopped with a hand on his arm. "No time for that, Spock. Let's just go!"

Spock suppressed a sigh at his Captain's illogicalities, came to the conclusion that it would be quicker to simply go to sickbay and "get it over with," and followed him to their destination.

Upon their arrival, Spock wished - for perhaps the first time - that he could be shocked by the decor, but he wasn't. It was exactly as he had predicted; the Captain had gotten him in order to have him help with decorations. The flashing lights and silvery substance known as tinsel were illogical, yes, but that was to be expected. For a brief moment, he wondered when such illogicalities had become commonplace on board the ship, and when he'd stopped minding them so much, but he dropped that train of thought before it took him somewhere he didn't care to examine.

As Spock walked in, Doctor McCoy was draping lights over a biobed readout, humming a Terran melody in the key of G major, although he was off by approximately 0.12 percent. Close, for a human. More fascinating, however, was the Doctor's choice of clothing; a hat matching that of the Captain, along with boxer shorts and a hooded sweatshirt labeled "Ole Miss." Upon the opening of sickbay doors, he turned and grinned at them. "Spock!" he said, and placed his lights down, picking up a box instead and walking towards them. "Here, take this, start putting them everywhere." He pushed the box into Spock's arms, who accepted the parcel with a quirked eyebrow.

"Fascinating," he said. "Decorative garlands in a silver color, made of polyvinyl chloride film coated in -"

"It's tinsel, Spock," McCoy interrupted, now wearing his characteristic frown. "I don't need you to analyze it, I need you to put it up."

"Where do you wish for me to place it?"

"I told you, everywhere." McCoy made a large sweeping gesture with one arm. "Go crazy with it."

"May I remind you, Doctor, that Vulcans do not 'go crazy' with -"

"I don't care. Just put it up and don't wake my patient." McCoy jerked a thumb over at the only occupied biobed, where said patient was curled up in their sheets. The only part of them visible was their hair, dark brown and spread haphazardly across the pillow. Spock allowed himself a minuscule sigh, more of an exhale really, and extracted a strand of tinsel from the box as he sat on an empty biobed.

"Any news on the tree?" the Captain said, finally chiming in. Spock glanced over and noticed him untangling a long string of colored lights.

"Yeah, Sulu's on it," McCoy responded. "He and Chekov should be here any minute now."

"What's been taking them so long?"

"I dunno, Sulu's probably making sure that the damn thing is perfectly intact and alive. If you ask me, he just doesn't understand the concept of Christmas trees."

"Oh, he understands it," the Captain responded. "He just doesn't like it. We talked about that on the bridge today, actually."

"I don't care why he's weird about trees, I just wish he'd shut up about them," McCoy said, and Jim mock tutted.

"Y'know, Santa's gonna leave coal in your stocking with that kind of mean attitude."

"Coal in my stocking? Really? I'm not three, Jim."

"You don't have to be a child to believe," the Captain said, in what Spock supposed was intended to be a "wise" tone of voice, but ended up sounding more dramatic than anything else.

"Is that what you keep telling yourself?" McCoy shot back.

"Ouch, Bones." The Captain placed a hand over his heart in a gesture that Spock had come to realize was mock offended. "Someone's being a Grinch tonight."

"A 'Grinch', Captain?" Spock cut in, unable to refrain from asking. He had learned a good deal of Terran terms over the duration of their mission on the Enterprise, but he had not heard "Grinch" before.

"Oh yeah, you guys don't have Dr. Seuss on Vulcan," Jim said, then furrowed his eyebrows. "And I keep telling you, it's Jim when we're off duty."

Spock opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the whooshing of sickbay doors opening to reveal Ensign Chekov and Lieutenant Sulu carrying a small pine tree. He raised an eyebrow; clearly this was the tree that the capt - Jim - and McCoy had been referring to. Fascinating.

"We have ze tree, Keptin!" Chekov announced with a large grin, stating the obvious.

"Excellent, Mr. Chekov!" Jim said, abandoning his tangle of lights to stand up and direct the Ensign to a spot in approximately the center of sickbay. "Bones and I worked out the best spot, go ahead and put it here."

"Aye sir!" Chekov and Sulu maneuvered the tree around the boxes scattered haphazardly on the floor, setting it down where Jim had indicated. Spock couldn't help but notice that the spot their Captain had picked was 3.25 centimeters off center. He tried to ignore it; after all, correcting them would simply encourage these illogical habits. It was unlikely he would be in sickbay any time soon after this, in any event. There was no logical reason for him to correct them, so he simply focused on untangling a strand of tinsel.

"That should just about do it, guys. Thanks for the hand!"

"Oh, eet was nohzing -"

"Just be sure to take good care of her, alright?" Sulu asked, voice faintly anxious.

Spock was resolutely not focusing on the off center tree. Not at all. Not even a little bit.

"Mr. Sulu, you're leaving this tree in my sickbay," McCoy said, sounding faintly offended. "I don't let things just die here, you know."

It was only 3.25 centimeters. Not a large distance. It was ignorable. Spock was ignoring it.

"Good to hear, Doc."

...on the other hand, an off-center tree could pose an obstacle for the doctors and nurses. One path around the tree would be smaller than the other. What if it hindered productivity? Allowing such a thing to happen would be most illogical.

That settled it. Spock stood up from the biobed he had been sitting on and made his way over to the tree, picked it up, and moved it precisely 3.25 centimeters to the right. As he pulled his hands away from the trunk, he instantly noticed a clear, sticky substance coating his fingers. Sap. How… unpleasant.

"Um, Spock?" came Jim's voice, and Spock looked up to find that the other crewmembers were staring at him with thoughtful frowns and furrowed eyebrows - confusion, that was the name for the emotion. "Why did you move it?"

"The tree was 3.25 centimeters off center. It was logical to center it so it would pose the least hindrance to productivity," Spock replied.

"Oh, of course," Jim said, a small grin on his face. "Thanks for fixing that."

"Thanks are unnecessary. It was only logical."

"Whatever, I'm thanking you anyways. It's human manners."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Now, if you will excuse me, I must clean my hands." With that, he exited the sickbay and went to the closest bathroom.

He was gone approximately two minutes, not a very long time at all, but somehow in that time the number of people decorating had almost doubled. Whereas previously there had been only Jim, McCoy, Sulu, and Chekov, it appeared Nyota, Mr. Scott, and Nurse Chapel had decided to join the fray. Mr. Scott and the Captain were stringing lights onto the tree, Chekov was filling the room with what appeared to be artificial snow, and the other four were unpacking several new boxes full of assorted baubles, talking and laughing quietly so as not to wake the sleeping patient. For a minute, Spock simply stood and watched them.

He'd never truly celebrated Christmas on Vulcan. It would have been illogical to do so. He knew what it was, having seen such celebrations occur at the Academy, but he had never partaken in them. The idea of participating was not one that appealed greatly to him, given that the commercial aspect was unnecessary and illogical, while the religious one did not fall in line with his personal faith. In addition, there were the faint memories at the back of his mind, ones that tugged at his attention and that he firmly squashed back down, memories of his mother. How she would inevitably start baking more than normal once the season had arrived back on Earth. How for years, she would leave a small gift at the foot of his bed on Christmas Eve, always practical yet given with sentiment. How she'd hand-knitted him a sweater each year, thick and lumpy and strongly colored, and taken a picture of him wearing it. He had humored her in this up to a point, shortly before he applied to the Vulcan Science Academy, when he "put his foot down" and insisted that the tradition was illogical and should not continue.

She had not gotten any more pictures before her death.

Spock desperately attempted to clamp back down on the memories that had momentarily surfaced, but it was too late; already a floodgate of emotions burst through, sinking through his chest and constricting his lungs. His earlier hopes for maintaining his composure around the celebration slipped away, and he drew in a desperate breath, hoping to keep control of the emotions until he could return to his quarters. Which, he decided, needed to be done immediately. He required meditation to sort through everything. Attempting to be as discreet as possible, he made his way towards the door.

Not discreet enough. "Spock!" Jim called. "Where're you going? We're just getting started."

Spock breathed in and out, managed to settle his face into a mask of neutrality, and turned to face them. "I must finish with my meditation," he said. "I am sure you have more than enough people to assist you in your endeavors."

"Yeah, but it's not the same without you here." Jim was pouting at Spock, who refused to let himself be swayed by such an expression. "C'mon, it won't take long, you'll have plenty of time to finish your meditation after!"

"While I appreciate the inclusion, I insist -"

"Please, Spock?"

Spock stared back into the blue eyes that were trained on him, eager and pleading. "Puppy dog eyes," he believed the Terran phrase was. A most illogical phrase, as Jim's eyes certainly did not resemble those of a puppy. They were...hard to resist, however. For once, Spock didn't care to examine why. He only knew that he must resist them at all costs. Examination could happen later. "I must decline. Goodnight, Captain."

"Wait, Spock -!"

Spock turned and quickly left for his quarters, before he could be convinced to give in. It was for the best this way. After all, he had no business participating in the first place. He did not celebrate the holiday. All it would bring him was pain, which would be highly illogical for him to seek out. Yes, this was for the best.

He had just arrived at the door to his quarters when he was stopped with a loud, "WAIT!" He turned, finding Jim running to catch up to him. Spock quickly went to open his door, but Jim was faster, running forward and standing between Spock and his quarters. "Spock, wait, just…" Jim panted, holding up a hand in a plea for more time. "What's wrong?"

"I…" Spock began, but stopped himself. He couldn't lie and say he was fine. Nor could he admit to the feelings that tore through his gut. He had to answer logically. "I saw no reason to participate in festivities that belong to a religion that I do not observe."

Jim sighed. "Plenty of people celebrate Christmas who aren't Christians, they -"

"Celebrate the material aspect, which is equally illogical. May I ask you to please move so that I may enter my quarters?"

"It's not that," Jim said, avoiding Spock's question. "You're not coming here because you don't celebrate the holiday, because there have been plenty of holidays that you don't celebrate that I've convinced you to help with before. Something's wrong, and I want to know what it is." Jim's expression softened. "You're my best friend, Spock. I want to help you."

An unusual emotion surfaced at the words "best friend," something akin to disappointment, but Spock resolutely ignored it. How Jim thought of him, or how he thought of Jim, was irrelevant at the time. He was lucky to have what he did, and would not - could not - ask for more. The more pressing issue on his mind was how to get Jim to leave so he could meditate and regain control. "...I ask you again, please move so that I may enter my quarters."

"Not until you let me help you."

Spock exhaled. He could force Jim to let him in, but found he couldn't bring himself to do so. The idea of hurting the Captain, even barely, made his stomach turn in distaste. He was not left with much of a choice. Perhaps he could...simply omit some information. If he didn't explain everything, then perhaps his control would last. "...My mother continued to celebrate the holiday when she moved to Vulcan, and shared...some of her traditions with me. I try not to think of such things, and being around the celebrations makes that task difficult." Spock noticed, with a small amount of pride, that his voice remained steady.

"...oh." Jim's hand dropped from Spock's arm, and for once, he seemed to not know what to say. "God, Spock, I'm… I'm really sorry."

Spock simply nodded, his vocal chords suddenly closed up.

"Is there anything…" Jim began, then seemed to realize that there would be nothing he could possibly do. "I'll just leave you to your meditation, then." He moved out of the way of the door, allowing Spock to pass through, but Spock barely got two steps before turning back around.

"Jim?" he asked, voice scraping against his throat.

Jim smiled, just a little. "Yeah?"

"Thank you. For your concern as to my well-being." Spock took a deep breath. "It is...kind of you."

"Like I said earlier, Spock, you're my best friend. Of course I'm concerned about you." Jim's smile widened slightly, eyes still melancholy. "I know I probably can't help with this, but if there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."

Spock nodded, tightening his mouth to prevent emotion from seeping out, and stepped into his quarters.

* * *

"Oh my god," McCoy groaned, tipping his head back from where it had been bent over a box of Christmas decorations. "Jim, you've got to be kidding me."

"What did our dear Captain do this time?" Uhura asked, quirking one corner of her mouth upwards but not looking over from where she was hanging an ornament on the tree.

McCoy held up several large bundles of fake mistletoe in answer. "He actually brought all this with him. And there's more in there, too. If he was planning on putting it all over my sickbay, so help me god…"

"He wouldn't," Chapel cut in, but her voice was tentative.

"He would," McCoy responded. "I would know, I roomed with him for three years at the Academy. He used to put this stuff everywhere, trap me into kissing people that I'd rather punch instead."

Uhura rolled her eyes fondly. "Typical Kirk," she said, grabbing another ornament. Chapel nodded her agreement.

McCoy, on the other hand, stared down at the fake mistletoe in his hands. The beginnings of a plan were coming to him, his brain spinning eagerly at the possibilities. If he could pull it off… It would be perfect. Not only would he have his well-deserved revenge, but maybe he could succeed in removing some of the ever present tension between a certain two crew members. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it.

Grinning deviously, he got up and stuck a piece of the mistletoe above the sickbay doors.

* * *

The meditation was only half helping.

Spock could deal with the emotions regarding his mother with few difficulties, given that he had done so enough times to develop a kind of routine. The guilt rolling in his stomach calmed, the sadness was reduced, and ever-dangerous anger was brought down as much as he could. The emotions would never truly go away, he knew that. With time, they would become fainter, as they already were beginning to, but they would never disappear. He was merely pleased that he had managed to lower them to acceptable levels. From this more distanced perspective, he could recognize that avoiding the holiday frivolities due to memories of her was illogical. If anything, he could honor her much better by participating, rather than sitting in his quarters all night. She would have wanted him to move on and enjoy the holidays with his friends. And so, he resolved to do just that, once his meditation was finished.

But on the other hand, there was Jim, and all the feelings that he brought on. Spock could barely even scrape the surface there; he knew that if he did delve into those feelings, and all they entailed, there would be no going back. So he skirted around them, acknowledging that they existed but doing little more. Things were good this way. Things were logical this way. He should not want to explore them, he should want to leave them alone. But it seemed the more he tried to do so, the more they pulled him in, and he feared that someday they might pull him down too far. The professionalism of the ship - as well as their friendship - could not be put at risk by an illogical infatuation.

A buzzing at his door pulled Spock from his thoughts. He waited, hoping that whoever it was would simply leave. He was not so lucky. It buzzed again, and he sighed, rising from his position on his chair. His meditation was unfinished, but enough emotions had been dealt with to allow him to feign calmness better than before. Not ideal, but it would have to do. "Enter," he said, carefully schooling his voice into neutrality.

The door slid open and Jim entered, managing to look simultaneously apologetic and annoyed. Fascinating. "Sorry, I know you're meditating and everything, but they won't let me back into sickbay," Jim said. "My override code isn't working, and normally I'd just put in yours but it also wants a retina scan, and, well, I'd kinda need your eyes for that."

Spock nodded. "I will assist you."

"If you need more time, that's totally fine, I can wait -"

"It is no trouble. I am able to accompany you to unlock the door."

"Doesn't meditation normally take longer than that?" Jim asked, narrowing his eyes a bit.

Spock nodded. "That is true, however, I have accomplished enough for the time being."

"You sure?"

Spock resisted the urge to squirm under Jim's intense gaze. "Quite sure, Cap - Jim."

"Alright, if you say so… Just wanna make sure you're ok."

"I do not believe my mental stability will affect a retina scan," Spock said, raising an eyebrow.

Jim grinned. "There's the Spock I know. Come on, let's go to sickbay."

* * *

"I do feel kinda bad not lettin' 'im in…" Scotty mused, leaning against sickbay doors.

"It's for his own good," McCoy replied, nodding in a way that was likely intended to be sagely, but ended up just looking tired. "He'll thank us later."

"That'll be the day."

McCoy snorted in agreement, and poured himself a drink. "Eggnog?"

"Is it spiked?"

"Of course."

"Aye, I'll have some."

Scotty took the offered glass of eggnog with a grin. Nothing was better than drinking with his friends and tampering with the ship. For the engineer, it was like Christmas had come early. All he needed now was a good sandwich.

* * *

The second Spock and Jim stepped into sickbay, every eye in the room was on them, staring eagerly. Spock halted in place, confused by this reaction; normally some kind of greeting would be offered upon entrance to a room, but expectant stares were entirely unusual. Had something happened? What could they be expecting? Why did Doctor McCoy have a smile that Jim would call "pure satanic evil"?

"Is there a problem, guys?" Jim asked, apparently just as confused as Spock.

"Look up," McCoy said, by way of explanation.

Jim looked up, and Spock followed his gaze to a small plant cutting.

"Fascinating," Spock murmured. "The plant _Viscum album_, native to Earth's European, West Asian, and South Asian regions. Toxic when ingested. If I am not mistaken, it carries meaning to certain cultures."

"I know what mistletoe is, Spock," Jim said, face flushing red. "Do you...happen to know that cultural meaning, by any chance?"

"I am aware that it has romantic connotations." Spock felt blood rushing to his ears and face, and while he knew that his blush was more subtle than Jim's, he still tried (and failed) to will it away.

"Yeah, yeah it does. It, um..." Jim trailed off, and suddenly he was refusing to look at Spock, blue eyes trained on the ceiling. "In Western Terran culture, when two people meet under the mistletoe they have to kiss."

"I see." Spock suddenly decided that the ground was very fascinating indeed. Much more fascinating than the prospect of being kissed by the Captain due to some strange Terran tradition. After all, the man clearly had no desire to kiss Spock, and Spock did not fault him that. One did not desire to kiss their first officer, it just didn't happen. No matter what said first officer's feelings on the matter were. Feelings were unimportant. It was only logical to keep their relationship professional.

Only logical.

"Go on, kiss!" McCoy urged.

Spock shook his head. "Such a tradition is illogical. And as it is not part of Vulcan culture, I see no need for myself to participate in it."

"Yeah, what he said," Jim pitched in. Spock glanced up at him out of the corner of his eye; he was still looking at the ceiling, expression unreadable for once.

"Oh, come on!" McCoy said. "Spock, you're half human, aren't you? Humor us, it's just a kiss!"

To Spock, it was not "just a kiss." Once he made contact with Jim, he knew his emotions that he had tried desperately to control would seep out, and the friendship that they had spent years building would come crashing down. They would be back to cold, impersonal interactions, avoiding each other as much as possible, because Jim simply couldn't return his feelings. Not that Spock had actually asked, but...but it just wasn't possible. The chances were too slim. Spock couldn't risk losing their friendship for so small a chance.

But it wasn't as if he could explain this. It was a perfectly logical reason not to kiss Jim, but it was one that he could not reveal. And with a strange, sinking feeling, he realized that he did not have much of a choice but to kiss him.

Perhaps the kiss would be brief?

"Well, um..." Jim stammered, finally looking back at Spock, those blue eyes alive with an emotion he couldn't place. "Spock?"

"...I can see no way out of this, Jim," Spock said. He was unable to break eye contact at this point; it was strange, the effect those eyes had on him.

Jim sighed, and took a step closer. "Let's just get this over with."

"I -" Spock started, before he was cut off by Jim's lips on his and - oh.

Jim's lips were soft, and full, and surprisingly chaste given the man's reputation. They pressed gently, expertly against Spock's, just firm enough to allow Spock to pick up on Jim's flow of emotions. Annoyance. Fear. Pleasure. Love.

Wait, what?

As quickly as the kiss began, it ended, Jim pulling back and scowling at McCoy. "There, are you happy now, Bones?" he asked.

"Are you?" the Doctor shot back, smirking.

Spock barely heard any of this, head still reeling from the kiss. He had known it was a bad idea, but he hadn't done anything about it. And now things were worse than he could have anticipated - because how could he have ever predicted such emotions on Jim's end? Were they even Jim's, or were they Spock's own emotions projected back at him? Why had the kiss felt so...right? It wasn't fair. He was supposed to be in control of his emotions. Why was Jim making things so difficult?

"Spock!" someone said, loudly enough that Spock could infer that they had already called his name several times. "Earth to Spock!" It was the Doctor, waving a hand in front of Spock's face. Spock blinked.

"Doctor." He blinked again, and was unable to refrain from looking to Jim - who was once again refusing to meet his eyes.

"Are you alright? Did Jim kill you with a kiss or something? Like the opposite of Sleeping Beauty?"

"I am…" Spock almost said fine, but that would be a lie. "That is a most illogical idea."

"Just checkin'," McCoy said with a shrug. "For all I know, you could be allergic to kisses."

Spock didn't bother to dignify this with a reply - he probably couldn't have if he'd wanted to. It seemed the only thoughts he was capable of all centered around Jim and that kiss. This couldn't continue. He had to confront it head on. "Jim, may I speak with you?"

"Yeah, sure," Jim replied, looking at Spock but still refusing to meet his eyes.

"Outside, if you please." Spock turned and exited sickbay, assuming Jim would follow. His assumptions were correct, as they nearly always were, and sickbay doors shut behind them, leaving them alone in the hall.

Jim was looking at a spot on the far wall, arms crossed and face still flushed. He tapped his fingers against his arm, obviously itching to avoid the situation. But avoidance was illogical. "You are aware that I am a touch telepath," Spock started, voice unusually quiet.

"Yeah…" Finally, Jim met his gaze, blue eyes full of...sorrow? "About that. About the whole kissing thing, I'm really sorry. I had no idea that was coming, I swear. If I'd known I would have done everything to avoid it, but it happened and now you're probably feeling really awkward because you don't feel the same way, and I just…" Jim sighed. "I don't want this to ruin our friendship, Spock. It doesn't have to change anything. But if you want to transfer… I'd understand."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Why would I wish to transfer?"

For an instant, Jim almost looked annoyed. "You're really going to ask - because maybe you'd feel too awkward working for a Captain who has romantic feelings for you." There was that "puppy dog" look again, those bright blue eyes wide and pleading. "But like I said, it doesn't have to change anything. Despite the rumors that I know you've heard, I do have some self-control. And your friendship means a lot to me, Spock. I wouldn't risk losing it."

"And I would not risk yours." Spock took a deep breath. "However, seeing as you have been forced to confess your feelings, it would only be fair for me to confess my own."

Jim's eyes widened, but other than that, his face was suddenly expressionless. "What."

"I reciprocate your romantic feelings, and would not be averse to beginning such a relationship with you."

"You - you what?"

"I recipro -"

"I heard you, I'm just having a hard time believing it." Jim blinked, and blinked again. "This isn't some kind of prank, is it?"

"I am a Vulcan," Spock said. "We do not play pranks. Nor do we lie."

"I... Wow, okay," Jim said, and suddenly his entire being seemed to light up, his face splitting into an enormous smile. "You're sure?"

"Quite sure." Spock could not repress the small quirk of his lips upward; Jim's happiness was contagious, it seemed.

There was suddenly Jim's mouth against his again, warm and soft and pressing eagerly against Spock's, projecting love and ecstasy and contentment and adoration and warmth. Spock closed his eyes, focusing in on the sensation, but it wasn't strong enough. He gently took Jim's hand and pressed their fingers together, intertwining them, and nearly gasped at the spark of their minds brushing. Jim's emotions rushed in to meet his in a swirl of gold and electric blue, lighting up Spock's entire nervous system. A warmth filled him from head to toe, stretching across their minds, and Spock pushed further into the kiss, all logic temporarily forgotten as he soaked up the sensation of the moment.

In a word, it was perfect.

But sooner than Spock would have liked, they pulled apart, both of their faces flushed. "As much as I want to continue this, Spock," Jim said, voice slightly breathless. "I have to go back in there and help decorate."

"I will assist you," Spock replied, taking Jim's hands again and feeling the rush of warm emotion come back up his nervous system.

"Didn't you want to go back and meditate?"

"My perspective has changed considerably in the past five minutes." Their foreheads gently bumped together. "I would now rather stay with you."

"Alright," Jim said, closing the short gap between them for another quick kiss. "Let's head in, then."

But Spock, despite his desire to remain by Jim's side, pulled back. "First, I believe that my current attire is not fitting for the occasion."

"It's all right, Spock, no one expects you to have anything festive to wear."

"Those expectations are false. I have something that may suffice."

Jim's brow furrowed. "Wait, really?"

"Yes. You will see when I return." With that, Spock pressed his fingers against Jim's before returning to his room, carefully tamping down his amusement at the utterly confused expression on Jim's face.

* * *

McCoy looked up as Jim walked back into sickbay alone, arms crossed and narrowing his eyes in annoyance. "I see you unlocked the door for me, Bones," he said.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but that'd be a lie," McCoy replied. "You totally had that coming to ya, kid."

"What, you trapping me under the mistletoe with my first officer? No, no I did not."

"Are you forgetting what you did to me_ every single Christmas_ at the Academy?"

Jim continued on, ignoring McCoy entirely. "And poor Spock didn't have it coming, either. The fact that you removed the lock right after the whole thing happened just makes you look even more guilty, you ass."

"Never said I was innocent." McCoy grinned. "And technically, I didn't lock or unlock the door. I asked someone else to."

Jim didn't have to make much of a leap to figure out who helped. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Really, Scotty? Really?"

Scotty shrugged, at least trying to look apologetic, and said, "Sorry, sir. You know I cannae resist a bit o' tinkerin'."

"Yeah, I do know that," Jim replied, flopping down on the floor and reaching into a box of ornaments. Undaunted by the dirty look sent his way by the Captain, McCoy sat next to him, holding a plate of cookies in one hand and glass of eggnog in the other.

"Cookie?" McCoy offered, setting the plate in between them.

"...fine." Jim was still pouting as he grabbed a chocolate chip cookie, but McCoy could tell that he was trying to hide a smile. The kid hadn't really been that mad in the first place. McCoy knew these things just by looking; after all, Jim was his best friend, no matter how stupid he was sometimes.

"Don't worry, I made sure that there's nothing there that could cause you to have a reaction. Not that you probably care, you eat what you want no matter what's in it."

"As I've told you, food allergies are just a challenge, Bones. If I keep eating it long enough -"

"You'll end up in anaphylactic shock and I'll have to jab a hypo in your neck." McCoy took a large sip of eggnog and smacked his lips. "So how'd your chat with Spock go?"

"Uh, it went fine. Just fine," Jim said, cheeks flushing. "He went back to his quarters to grab something, but he'll be back soon. I think."

"You're blushin' like a ripe tomato, Jim," McCoy laughed. "What happened? Did you two kiss again or something?"

Jim opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then choked out a, "No! No. Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Jim." McCoy fixed Jim with a look. "Come on. Why do you think I set up the mistletoe in the first place?"

If possible, Jim went even redder. "You - you -"

"Of course I knew, everyone knew except for you two idiots," McCoy said, picking up a cookie and using it to gesture at Jim. "So have you two worked things out?"

"Uh - yeah. Yeah, we have," Jim replied, and grabbed McCoy's cookie. "How the hell did you figure it out?"

"I have eyes, kid." McCoy grabbed another cookie, this time popping it into his mouth followed by a gulp of eggnog. "Also, I'm friends with Nyota."

"Sure. Friends. That's all it is." Jim waggled his eyebrows suggestively. McCoy glared at him, strongly resisting the urge to smack the kid and ignoring the heat rushing to his face.

"Shut up and eat your damn treats," McCoy huffed. He rose from his position with a slight stumble before turning and leaving to continue decorating.

"The mistletoe's still up, go on and kiss her!" Jim called.

"I said shut up!"

Jim laughed, tossing a handful of fake snow at his friend's departing back. McCoy didn't notice, as it not only missed by a long shot, but he had already begun another conversation with Nurse Chapel about something or other. Whatever it was didn't last long, as it got put to the wayside when the sickbay doors swished open, and everyone was collectively shocked.

There was Spock.

In a lumpy Christmas sweater.

With cats on it.

"My god," McCoy muttered. "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing, or have I been drinking too much?"

Jim shook his head, a giant grin spread across his face. "Not just you, Bones. He's definitely wearing a cat sweater."

Spock nodded, fingers curling around the hem of the sweater, and said, "I apologize that I was not here sooner. There were some minor difficulties in finding this garment, but I thought it would best fit with the festivities."

"I…" Jim appeared to be momentarily at a loss for words, simply smiling like a lunatic. "Wow. It's perfect, Spock."

"I am glad you think so."

"Hold on, guys, let me get a picture of this," Nyota jumped in, holding up a camera. "Smile!"

Spock didn't smile, raising a quizzical eyebrow instead.

She lifted her camera, then lowered it again. "Captain, why don't you get in there too?" she asked, gesturing for him to move next to Spock.

"Sure, might as well," Jim replied, and walked over to throw his arm around Spock's shoulders.

She snapped a picture, Jim still grinning like a maniac and Spock still looking confused at everything. "Leonard, you should join them too," she said.

McCoy shook his head. "I think I'd rather just watch," he said. "But thanks."

"Come on, Bones!" Jim cajoled, coming forward to grab McCoy and drag him over to where Spock was still standing, then throwing his arms around both.

"I hate you," McCoy muttered.

"Yeah, whatever, you know you love me."

"Guys, smile!" Nyota said, and snapped another picture.

* * *

Festive music played softly over the sickbay speakers. Cookies and eggnog were passed around the room, which decreased the work ethic but increased the laughter. Scotty was tinkering with the Christmas lights, trying to maximize their energy efficiency, as Chekov strung them up. Sulu placed sprigs of holly and mistletoe around the room - all carefully cut so the plant wouldn't die, of course. Nurse Chapel sat on an empty biobed and tied small name tags around candy canes, then handing them to Nyota to put on the tree. McCoy chatted with Nyota from across the tree as he managed to squeeze more and more ornaments onto it, unwilling to leave their conversation and decorate somewhere else. Jim moved about the room as he put together a large train set, occasionally drawing Scotty away from the lights in order to help. And Spock was attempting to figure out a way to place a wreath on the sliding sickbay doors.

"Perhaps if it was holographic…" Spock mused, hands buried in the door controls. Jim passed by and clapped him on the shoulder, hand lingering just a little bit longer than it would have before, and Spock looked up with an expression that wasn't a smile, but managed to carry the same sentiment.

"Any luck there?" Jim asked.

"None yet; however, if we replaced the real wreath with a holographic replica, we could achieve the same effect."

Jim nodded. "Good idea, let's give it a go."

"I intend to do so." Spock withdrew his hands from the door controls and closed the control panel, standing up to go obtain a hologram projector, before he was stopped by a hand on his arm and a grin on Jim's face.

"We're under the mistletoe again," Jim said, gesturing upwards.

"So we are," Spock replied, quirking an eyebrow. "Have we not already fulfilled the social requirement for this situation?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we can't...repeat the experience." Jim's grin widened, and he leaned in slightly closer.

"I do not doubt that it will be more pleasurable the second time around," Spock murmured, and allowed Jim to close the distance between them, gently but eagerly returning the kiss.

Across the room, McCoy resisted the urge to catcall and instead shared a grin with Nyota. "We totally called it," he boasted.

"Of course we did," she said, looking more than a little proud. "It was bound to happen."

"You got that right." He tried to put another ornament on, but her hand batted his away.

"Enough with the ornaments, Leonard; you're leaving me no room for these candy canes."

"Oh." He looked at the tree with wide eyes, as if suddenly noticing the sheer amount of ornaments he'd been mindlessly putting on. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Come help me with the candy canes, Doctor," Chapel said, smiling knowingly at him. He shot her a scowl, but moved to sit next to her anyways.

Over the speakers, the music changed, and Nyota's face lit up in a smile. "Oh, I love this song," she sighed, pausing in her decoration for a moment to simply listen to the music.

"You should sing along, then," McCoy said with a smile.

"Only if you two sing with me."

"Oh no, I don't -"

"Yes, he does," Chapel interrupted, a wicked grin on her face. "Let's start the song over and all sing along!"

"I hate you," McCoy muttered to Chapel, which she ignored.

"Computer, restart this song!"

The song began again, and Nyota and Chapel began to sing.

_"Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light."_

Chapel gave McCoy a sharp nudge in the ribcage, and he joined in, Southern drawl playing at the edges of his voice.

_"From now on our troubles will be out of sight!"_

The others in the room looked over at them, Jim and Spock pulling apart but keeping their fingers intertwined, and smiles began slowly spreading from person to person.

_"Have yourself a merry little Christmas, make the yuletide gay."_

Nyota grinned at Jim and Spock, both flushing, as Sulu put his plants down and moved to join the singers.

_"From now on our troubles will be miles away!"_

Chekov ran over to join in before the next verse started, singing as enthusiastically as he did everything else.

_"Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore._

_Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more."_

Jim shrugged, still blushing slightly, and began singing along, his voice surprisingly good.

_"Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow._

_Hang a shining star upon the highest bough!"_

Scotty emerged from the wall panel he'd been tinkering with and lent his voice to the mix - not as clear or on key as some of the others, but happily singing anyways.

_"And have yourself a merry little Christmas now!"_

The group turned to look at Spock expectantly, and he resisted the urge to fondly roll his eyes before joining in with a soft baritone.

_"Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore._

_Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more._

_Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow._

_Hang a shining star upon the highest bough!_

_And have yourself a merry little Christmas now!"_

The group finished their impromptu caroling and grinned at one another, Spock with his "I'm not smiling but I really am" expression instead.

They were a mismatched, ragtag bunch for sure, but they were family. And as they were gathered together, it seemed their holiday season would be a very happy one indeed.

* * *

_**AN: Thanks for reading! If you wanna drop a review, that would be awesome. Hope you have an awesome holiday season!**_


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